A Hotel On Boardwalk

"Give me four million dollars, and I will lick you to orgasm under the table."

The wealthy businesswoman blinked. Her breath stopped, caught in the back of her throat. "... What?"

The pause was when I knew I had her. She had money, and power, and a stronger drive to win than anyone I had ever known, but I had a direct line from my voice to her body. "You heard me." I leaned forward in my chair, eyes locked on hers, suppressing my smile. "Give me four million dollars," I intoned. It wasn't an order, but it wasn't a question. "And I will lick you, to orgasm, under the table."

She glanced down at her stacks of bills. I could almost hear her brilliant mind crunching through the calculations I had just finished a moment earlier. Four million was nothing near her net worth, but it was almost all of her liquid assets. We both knew she could afford it. But we both knew she would be... exposed.

And her little pewter terrier was right in front of a row of my hotels.

When she looked up, her bright blue eyes were narrowed. Her competitive streak was a mile wide. "Two million."

"No." I kept my face confident and my voice even, but I surprised us both with how easily I dropped that syllable. I could get used to negotiating from a position of power. "Four million."

"Two million and my bra," she counter-offered. The bra was coral-pink, textured with satin and lace. It was also the last scrap of clothing she had on, after I had taken her panties in exchange for rent.

"I don't want your bra. I want your money." This wasn't strictly true. She had perfect and voluptuous breasts, and I ached to look at them.

"Six million from the bank." The 'bank' had been buying clothes at a generous markup. My opponent had leveraged her pencil skirt and silk scarves into a powerful business empire. Meanwhile, I was down to my boxers, having burnt through my charcoal suit and jade sweater trying to keep up.

I don't have any idea why she finds me irresistible in a cashmere sweater, but I'm not above exploiting it.

"No," I replied. It wasn't just about earning money for myself: I needed to drain her account. The next time she ended up in my debt, she wasn't going to pay with cash. "Four million dollars, of your own money." I paused. She watched my face intently, desire lit up in her eyes. I could tell she was waiting to hear it one more time. "And I will lick you to orgasm under the table."

A little shudder went down the back of her neck, and her chest rose with a deep, slow breath. It was subtle, but I knew the signs. If I could have seen her nipples, they would have been pert and rock hard. "Deal," she finally announced, standing up almost fast enough to knock over her chair. "But on the sofa, not under the table."

"You're the client." I couldn't help but grin a cocky smile. "Cash up front?"

"Half now, and half on delivery," she firmly rebutted.

"Fine." Brightly colored bits of paper exchanged hands.

Leaving the game board and dining table behind, she sashayed across the lounge of our one bedroom apartment. "I'd better get my money's worth," she teased, as she draped herself over the sofa. Her blonde hair lay strewn behind her on the throw cushion, her hips lewdly propped up on the arm rest.

"Absolutely," I purred, as I strode after her and sank to my knees on the floor in my place between her legs. I slid my hand slowly across her delicate feet and shapely calves. "I'll get right to work."

I caressed up her inner thigh, fingers moving with wicked purpose. Her skin was soft, and freshly waxed, and hot with arousal. Hot with anticipation, and the transgressive self-discovery that she wanted to get eaten out more than she wanted to win. With forefinger and thumb I spread apart the folds of her pussy, and stared enraptured at the sight of her clit, swollen with need. "Mmn." I savored the moment: she was mine, to worship.

I leaned my head in closer between her spread legs, and planted a hot, wet kiss on her clit. My lips parted as I gently sucked that little button into my mouth, and started working my tongue. I started a series of firm, slow licks from underneath, flicking the tip of my tongue across her with each stroke. "Ohhh fuck," she moaned, squirming, and I gripped her thigh in my free hand, keeping her legs spread apart.

She was thoroughly wet by then, and I had to taste her. I nuzzled my face further down, and lapped greedily across her entrance, relishing her tang on my tongue. It was sharp, and powerful, and feminine- she tasted like the sound of the word 'cunt'.

She gripped the sofa cushion in one hand, and my hair in the other, tugging my head back upwards. I lapped my tongue across her clit, forceful and fast, and was rewarded by the sound of her sensual moans- "Fuck yes! There, just there- don't stop!"

Gears locked to exactly that speed, I licked her over and over and over again, while I slid two of my fingers inside her. Feeling her juicy and snug around my hand, I curled my fingertips up against her g-spot, unmistakably firm and aroused, and pressed hard.

All of her muscles tensed. Her back arched, her fingers clenched and tugged hard at my hair, and her pussy clamped powerfully around my hand as she climaxed, lips parted wide in a soundless scream. The wave of her pleasure crested and broke, and my tongue relented, as I eased my head back to watch her catch her breath, chest heaving and eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. "Wow," she murmured.

"Pleasure doing business with you," I grinned, climbing to my feet and offering a hand to help her up from the sofa and back towards the game table and the other half of my salary.

"Ha." She recomposed herself quickly as we took our seats. "Don't look so cocky," she teased, a predatory grin on her lips. "You haven't won yet. And I do believe it's my turn..."